Public Kink
by GeorgiaFranchot
Summary: Does what it says on the tin really, written for someone on tumblr. He asked for the pairing and I've never imagined it before but y'know. MATURE. QuinnxBlaine being sexual in the practice room.


_Just to clarify this is AU (Alternate universe) so Blaine is neither openly gay (or even recognising his feelings, as his parents are deeply religious, you get the idea) or with Kurt. For convenience's sake he's at McKinley. Enjoy!_

Blaine's even more of an excitable puppy than usually today and it's driving me fucking insane. "Hey guys!" he exclaims joyfully as I attempt to read through the lyrics of a certain festive song by Band Aid. "It's _snowing_!"

Oh, yay. That means I get to attempt to drive through that sludgy stuff on the way home. But all the happy couples are talking about how 'romantic' it is, and Kurt even has the _audacity_ to break out into "I've got to go away, oh but baby it's cold outside…"

Please, life is not all sunshine and rainbows, which is exactly what I say to Blaine. It hardly sways him though, as the bell rings and he blinks naively. He's so shockingly innocent, if you compare him to the Virgin Mary, she looks more like one of those hookers on a pole you can pick up in Amsterdam. He grins in fact. "Quinn, you and I of all people should know that Christmas is a wonderful thing to celebrate. It's the little, happy things in life that should get us by."

Cue me rolling my eyes. "Let me guess, you're gonna start rambling how every special snowflake is unique, and that I'm special and all that crap."

That throws him slightly, as his eyes dart around the now empty (bar us) practise room. "Well…um…" he stutters slightly at my menacing tone.

"Oh calm down bookworm, I'm not about to bite you-unless you're into that. The quietest are supposed to be the kinkiest after all. Oh Blaine, you're_ blushing_. Am I making you feel awkward? When was the last time you..?"

If the sweet little geek wasn't feeling awkward before, he definitely was. I have backed him into a corner, I suppose. He's looking everywhere but into my eyes, which have proved to be excellent at staring before.

"Um…if you really need to know...I've never…y'know…why are you asking me this? Why not ask one of the other guys? Sam, Finn, or Puck?"

"Oh believe me boy, you ain't seen nothing yet," I drawl which is fairly uncharacteristic of me. "I'm interested. Bless you, a virgin. So what gets you off, then? I imagine you have quite an imagination. Done your research online perhaps? Mhm. So, what're you into perhaps? Biting, bloodplay? Lingerie perhaps? Lingerie like this?" I hum, and that's when I undo the milky white buttons on my dark blue shirt and let it drop to the floor, exposing my deep red bra to the cold, which has quite an effect.

His eyes darken.

"Take off your jeans." He rasped.

"What?"  
>"You heard me."<p>

His voice was scaring me a little, and I decided to anyway. He must be joking, to see how far I'd go. Let's see how he'd react seeing me in just bra and knickers. I want to give him something.

So I press my chest hard against his, and manoeuvre his hands so he assists me in removing my jeans. He looks like he wants to eat me and is speculating over where to start. "Let me put my hands on you."

His hands are insane. Gentle, probing, and they make me want to throw my head back so he can see my neck. I do, and he licks my neck.

"You bastard" I groaned unwillingly as his hand slips onto my chest. Inside the material, he experimentally feels, here and there, testing different pressures.

Everything's just so _wethotfuck__**Blaine **_that I'm making some animal like sounds…I think, all I know is hands and mouth on my chest, and I'm saying his actual name, not Anderson, but Blaine, and I don't want to, but I just stop caring and then.

Then.

Then I gain control once more, that familiar sense of warmth pooling inside me which makes me squirm. My hands reach for his chest, his waist, and then further down. "Hmm, not bad for such a bookworm," I assess him. "A grower, too. You've not even got your hands down there for me yet. Or do you want me to go down on you first? I suppose I have been pretty fuckin' bad…I mean who gets off in school? The door is open…_anyone_ could see…"

That is enough to make him grab onto me and make an indistinguishable noise, full of need.

He feels so good, so firm and real. He's aroused, it's pressing on my stomach and no material separates us apart from my knickers. Dark red, almost black now so strong is my imagination of what we could and will be doing, and my hands are gliding. A cold drop of sweat is sliding down his throat as it convulses and our bodies pressed close, there's a sense of urgency.

My hands curl over him, grasping firmly, but then his hands find their way inside of me, pressing there and exploring here("Quinn…you feel so…god, you feel incredible") and how does he know what to do- _fuck that feels so good, right there _ I was delirious as I cried out, and I was almost sobbing with relief.

Never mind that my hair is plastered to my head from the tension, and I am wearing one scrap of red, I tell him to sit down and close his eyes. Soft, naked and warm. I admire him a moment, and feel so overwhelmed with emotion.

Strange, how things change. Once I've knelt, and placed him ever so gently in my mouth, his eyes snap wide open.

"No, you don't have to do that."  
>"You idiot, have you felt how hard you are? Plus what you just did, I believe I have to top that…"<p>

I have no idea if what I'm doing is right, all I know is he is gripping my hair incredibly hard and he already feels different between my swollen lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you beautiful bitch_, fuck_." He whimpers as I give my mouth a rest and stroke, looking at it as if I've never seen one before. I kiss it, and then I use my tongue.

I feel so connected, I can see he wants to truly cry, but he's already looking healthier, and then he opens his mouth. "I'm going to, in a minute…**FUCK**!" his yells reverberate around the room, and it's in my mouth, on my lips, brimming over into my hands and I don't know what to do with myself as he clutches himself in wonder.

I touch some with my finger that's collected in my hand. I look at him, and then I place the finger slowly into my mouth for a taste. I don't know what to make of it. I can't taste, I can only smell him, and he smells of coffee, of irony and beauty.

He kisses me then, truly. It's a gentle kiss, mingled with tears. His salty tears. I look at him then, as his eyes blink furiously. "That's the best thing you could have done, _thank you_." He whispers.

I ache all over, there's not one place he hasn't seen or touched, and I wonder what that means. But, I've made Blaine Anderson, little bookworm, shout, moan in ecstasy, and I've made him cry in joy.

_I suppose you can call that my good deed for the day_. He tenderly wipes anything of his off of my skin, and dries me. I get dressed, so does he. I stare at my neck in my pocket mirror. "You gave me a _love bite."_ I'm stumped.

"Do you even want me to recount what you've done to me?" he shudders weakly, stroking himself.

_Believe me, that's only the beginning_ I think to myself, as I move towards his form, ready to dig into his shoulders.


End file.
